


Happy Juice

by JestaFairyOfPranks



Category: Dystopia - Fandom, Dystopian - Fandom
Genre: Death, Decapitation, Dystopia, Dystopian, Future, Government, Happiness Drugs, Happy, I wrote this in 6th grade, Sad Ending, War, i suck at math lol, i wrote this in 7th grade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JestaFairyOfPranks/pseuds/JestaFairyOfPranks
Summary: Ever since the 2nd Civil war, when therapists and scientists fought for finding the cure for depression, The government decided in amendment 45 of the U.S. constitution, that everyone must take a supplement at each meal to boost positive emotions and nullify negative ones. The supplement was named “Happy Juice”.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Happy Juice

Quinn woke up one morning, feeling sort of sad. Ever since the 2nd Civil war, when therapists and scientists fought for finding the cure for depression, The government decided in amendment 45 of the U.S. constitution, that everyone must take a supplement at each meal to boost positive emotions and nullify negative ones. The supplement was named “Happy Juice”. Quinn didn’t like the taste of Happy Juice, but neither did most of her friends. Quinn sat down at her breakfast table just as her roomate had finished making some pancakes.

“Morning Quinn,” said Quinn, setting down a plate of fluffy pancakes. The pancakes were expertly made, fluffy, perfectly circular, and topped with a small cube of creamy yellow butter and garnished with some 100% pure homemade maple syrup. “So are you going to get the groceries today?” 

“Yes,” Quinn said happily. She had finished her happy juice and was feeling better than ever. “Just let me eat then I’ll go!”

“Ha ha” said Quinn. He finished his Happy Juice and then got up from the table. “Don’t forget to-”

“Drink Happy Juice at noon,” They both said at the same time. “I know, I know,” said Quinn, “I don’t want to end up like Quine” 

Quine was a young boy, the first one in ages who dared to go by a different name. He didn’t drink his Happy Juice for a week without getting caught, but when he did get caught, he received the Rebel Punishment. He was publicly executed, a warning to anyone else who wanted to follow in his footsteps.

“Well, bye,” said Quinn as he left for work. Quinn wished her roommate didn’t have to work so early, but that's how the government made it, and there’s no arguing with the government. She finished eating and then left for the store.

When Quinn got to the store, she went straight to the happy juice aisle. She gently picked up a 5-gallon bottle of Happy Juice and plopped it into her cart. The Happy Juice felt as heavy as a large weight. She then decided that she wanted to make some sandwiches for herself, so she got some bread and some cheese. She then went to buy it, and all the lines were long. 

“I’m buying Happy Juice” Quinn said. “Excuse me! Move! I’m trying to buy Happy Juice!”

Whenever someone went to the store to buy Happy Juice, they got to skip the line because your purchases were seen as more important than anyone else’s.

When she got to the front of the line, the cashier asked for her safe number.

“9924513429” 

Every Quinn had to have a safe number, so another Quinn wouldn’t be confused with them. Quinn used to always forget hers, so she had to get a safe card. Having a safe card is looked down upon because it shows that you have a weak brain and have less of a chance of getting a good job. Quinn wished she had a better memory. 

“Have a nice day,” said the cashier, in an overly excited voice.

As Quinn walked home, she realized she was almost late for a concert put on by her favorite band:  _ Quinn and the Quinns _ . She hurried back to her apartment, needing to put the happy juice back before she leaves for the concert. Quinn lives on Avenue R, one of the cheapest apartment complexes that still had air conditioning. Quinn is unemployed, due to her weak brain, so her roommate takes care of all the bills. 

As Quinn walks inside her cozy little kitchen area, something bites her leg. 

“Hey!” Quinn says, shaking the grey blob off her leg, “GET OFF MEEEEEEEEEE!” 

“BARK! BARK!” said her dog, jumping up and down with a hungry expression on his face.

“Ohhh… My little puppy baby! I forgot you were here! Let’s feed you, shall we?” Quinn grabbed the dog food from the counter and poured some in her dog’s bowl. 

“There,” she said, “Now you are fed. Oh! The time! I need to leave for the concert! It’s almost 1:00!”

As Quinn left her house, she couldn’t help but feel like she forgot something. What could it have been? She fed the dog, she packed her lunch, was there anything else she had to do?

Whatever it was, Quinn didn’t let it distract her from getting to the concert on time. When she finally arrived, she took a good look at the theater in which the concert was being held. She had never been to this paticularone before, so she was ecstatic! There were huge windows surrounded by big, yellow lights, a neon sign glowing a vibrant red reading “quinn and the Quinns! Don’t miss the show!” She walked up to the door, ready to enter and have the time of her life, when she was stopped by a large security guard.

“Halt!” he said in a deep, loud voice that made Quinn jump. “You still need to take your test. We must make sure that you are not like Quine and that you are following the laws. Your arm, please.”

Quinn layed her arm flat against the wall of the entryway. The guard got out a needle, and stabbed her with it.

The pain was awful. Quinn was not used to this, as she rarely got the privilege to go to fancy places where they had talented security guards. She felt a pang of sadness, a rare emotion for her, about the fact that she wished she had enough money to do fancy things. But no, she was stuck with a roommate that barely makes enough money and a 2 room apartment that smelled like dog poop. 

“AHA!” the security guard screamed with delight. “SADNESS! YOU DIDN’T DRINK YOUR HAPPY JUICE, DID YOU?”

So  _ that’s  _ what Quinn forgot.  _ Well, it’s too late now, _ she thought.  _ I should have remembered it. _

“We are gonna have to take you to the Sad Seat, aren’t we? Rebel Punishment sounds about right for a scoundrel like yourself. Well, come along now. We musn’t keep the executioner waiting.”

As they traveled to the place of her inevitable death, Quinn thinks of all the things she had accomplished in her life. She got a house, a dog, a roommate, a best friend, and she had had so much fun. But, looking back on those experiences without the orange-tinted glasses, she realized that her life was filled of sad things that she just couldn't comprehend at the time. She remembers everyone smiling at her mom’s funeral, people laughing and telling jokes when some arsonist was setting everyone's houses on fire and/or blowing them up, and citizen singing and dancing when many cities were bombed and millions of people died. Happy Juice had ruined people's lives, and nobody knew. Not a single person cared or even thought about the consequences of being eternally happy, and now that Quinn knows, she will be killed.

_ This is the real reason.  _ Quinn thought  _ of why they kill people who don’t follow the rules. It’s not because they broke the law, it’s because they might inform other people of what it feels like. They might start a revolution.  _

Her thoughts circled around this for a few minutes, then Quinn realized that it is time for her to be killed. She takes one of her last breaths, thanking the earth for supplying her the oxygen to survive this long.

“Any last words?” the executioner says, in a cheery voice.

“Thank you, earth. Thank you, all” Quinn says as the axe comes down on her head, her vision going black.

“You are going to a happy place” says the executioner.

The last thing Quinn sees before she loses all her senses, was a man with black hair waving at her. And then everything stops.

  
  


“ _ Young woman breaks law: Citizens be careful.”  _ Says Quinn, a 40 year old man sitting on his couch. “Man, I’d hate to be that girl.”

“Me too,” said Quinn, a 50 year old woman, eating pancakes. “I mean, Happy Juice tastes bad, but that’s no reason to rebel. Speaking of Happy Juice, have you drank yours yet?”

“Not yet, my dear, not yet” said Quinn. “How about we drink it before we forget.”

“Good idea” Said Quinn. “I don’t want to end up like that poor girl.”

“Cheers” sais Quinn, raising his glass.

“Cheers” said Quinn, doing likewise in an attempt to bump glasses.

“Now, let’s go shopping. I hear that they are having a sale on bread and peanut butter”

“That sounds lovely dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a creative writing project back in 6th grade. I got a perfect score. I was inspired by Harrison Bergeron (I think that’s the name of the short story) and it became something of an inside joke to reference happy juice. Thanks for reading!


End file.
